


These Sacred Lips

by SophinaBlackwood



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophinaBlackwood/pseuds/SophinaBlackwood
Summary: Neville sneaks into Mustafa's hotel room at night.





	These Sacred Lips

Mustafa lays upon the bed, spread out like a heavenly being on a cloud. His eyelids are shut, perfectly still, thick eyelashes grazing his cheeks in slumber. An arm perches across his pecs, fingers gently resting just in the crevice of his armpit. A panel of silvery moonlight pools across his stomach. It makes his copper skin sparkle like gold. 

_A divine being._ Neville thinks, breath shallow.

_Absolutely too good for this earth. Too good to be touched._

Thankfully, Neville is broken. Neville is greedy.

Neville bends down, palming his weight against the mattress by Mustafa’s hip, and presses his lips against an angel.

Mustafa stirs underneath him. A tiny murmur in the back of his throat. For a few wonderful, dizzying moments, he kisses back. He parts his lips and Neville feels Mustafa’s tongue inside his mouth. It’s so intimate it makes Neville’s brain spin. Mustafa pulls back sharply, and upon recognizing Neville, looks at him with a dazed curiosity.

“King?” Mustafa croaks smoothly.

 _God._ Neville’s cheeks burn. He says it so natural as if Neville’s name were truly so.

“ _Yes_ ,” Neville breathes, pressing a kiss once more to Mustafa’s soft, warm lips. Really kissing him this time, tangling his free hand into the threads of Mustafa’s floppy hair. Again, Mustafa pulls back and Neville swears his eyes are glittering.

“What are you doing?” Mustafa sounds amused. Neville slides closer, arousal dragging hard against the bed and- _god-_ Mustafa’s body feels like absolution personified. When was the last time Neville was this hard? 

How does Mustafa do this to him?

 _I want you_ , Neville thinks, throwing the sheet that separates them away to run a hand up Mustafa’s leg.

“O-Oh, _please_ ,” Mustafa says, sleepily sliding his hands up Neville’s biceps- goosebumps left in his wake. “Oh.. _god._ King, touch me.”

Almost frantically, Neville straddles Mustafa, then pushes on the mattress, knees sliding back. Neville’s mouth lines up with Mustafa's stomach, licking and sucking at the navel. Mustafa rocks his hips up, his clothed erection rubbing against Neville’s pec- damp, hot and hard.

 _Fuck- me.._ Neville thoughts were in shreds, heartbeat pumping harder than during the winning pin to Rich at the Royal Rumble.

“Taste me, _taste me_ ,” Mustafa moans, fingers pressing against Neville’s scalp, begging him down to his cock. 

_Of course, my angel._

Neville sinks down, allowing his mouth to be filled with underwear and erection. Salty, delicious, and somehow more erotic than if the man had been sleeping naked. Mustafa ghosts his hands against his own neck, head thrown back as if he were trying to escape the sensation.

“ _Oh my god, oh my god,_ ” Mustafa moans repeatedly, “More- ah- m-more, _please_.”

But Neville feels himself back away against his flawed will. His mind is a war. He’s no longer a King- he's no longer royalty. Tozawa has taken his crown. His soul is gone. 

“I’m not worthy of you,” Neville’s bites out, hating himself for it.

“Yes, you fucking are,” Mustafa says, as if the words were torn from him. “You can't do this to me, don’t give it to me then take it away." Then, he adds, barely a whisper. " _I thought you were my King_.”

Desperate for his King. Desperate and cosmically beautiful.

So, Neville gives the angel what he wants.


End file.
